The Promise of Hylia
by Sean-bean-aweh
Summary: My interpretation of an interesting era that isn't really covered in much detail. A very dark and gritty version of Hyrule prior to the events of Ocarina of Time. Not strictly canon, but with so much detail left uncovered I had to make a few things up. Hopefully this presents an entertaining look at how the Hyrulean Civil War could have unfolded, even if not strictly accurate.


_When word spread of the promise of the Sacred Realm and the mighty Triforce that it contained, Hyrule became a great battlefield, an event that would come to fulfill the prophecy of Demise. All tried to claim it; Hylians, Gerudos, Zoras, Gorons and many others. Leading the Hylian war machine into battle is the great warrior Magnus the Righteous, King of the Hylians, claiming to be directly descended from the blood of the Avatar of Hylia and the Hero of Legend both. Until recently the army of Magnus had never lost a battle. A new evil has arisen in Hyrule, one that threatens the future of all. _

_Among the warriors in his army are two brave knights – Brom and Arianne – whose union will shape the future of Hyrule for generations to come..._

* * *

Dark clouds covered the skies as the rains fell upon the village. Several small wooden houses standing in two rows, creating a single long street down the middle. Nestled in a small valley the village was almost picturesque from a distance. But several things were amiss. Doors had been blasted off their hinges, shutters lay on the ground alongside shards of glass. Several buildings had holes in their roofs, and most bore scorch marks. But that was not what drew Brom's attention first. What drew his eyes were the bodies. They littered the streets, broken and torn, the shapes of men.

Brom could hear the others behind him. They wore the garb of Hylian soldiers; a heavy mail hauberk under a white tabard with the Hylian Royal Crest displayed upon it in red: a large bird with wings outstretched underneath a symbol of the Triforce. Their helms fully enclosed their faces with only narrow slits for vision. Under their armour the soldiers wore long white tunics edged with green. Heavy leather boots and gauntlets protected their limbs. Swords were girt at their waists. The majority also held tall spears. Others instead wore plainer attire consisting of a tunic of grey scales and a sturdy half helm. These soldiers also carried swords along with a wooden round shield. Among these men Brom stood out: pauldrons of steel guarded his shoulders, while sturdy leather and steel gauntlets protected his wrists and forearms. Greaves of steel and heavy leather boots protected his feet and shins. A leather breastplate of brown and white baring the same symbol as the soldier's tabards in silver protected his torso along with a chainmail hauberk. Between his mail and leather he wore a simple green tunic. Over all of this a dark green cloak aided in protecting him from the deluge. At his waist was belted a blade of fine craft, featuring an elegant silver crossguard and pommel paired with a blue leather wrapped handle. Hylian script was etched into the crossguard. A blue heater shield was slung over his shoulders baring the Royal sigil of a great red bird and the golden Triforce. In appearance Brom was tall and leaning towards a broader build, particularly in his swordsman's shoulders. His eyes were a pale blue while his hair and slight beard were dark blonde.

"Din's might." Brom swore before he turned back grim faced to behold his men. "Find the King's son!"

They dismounted and moved among the bodies, searching for one man in particular, Rusl, the Prince of the Hylians. But Brom could not see him among the dead, their tanned skin stained with blood, their red eyes staring blankly back at him. His heavy leather boots tramping across the blood soaked earth, Brom stared at the last remnants of a proud people, a strong people, lying in the mud with about as much dignity as the worms that had begun to spring from the ground as the rain fell.

"Gerudo will pay for this!" he heard a soldier say. Brom paused in his tracks and surveyed the scene again.

"This is not the work of the Gerudo." Brom stated. He had fought against the tribal desert warriors on many occasions, and in all of his experience he'd not known them to commit such an act. Composed entirely of females, the Gerudo were known for taking men prisoner, using them as mates so that their race could continue. The number of dead, armed or otherwise indicated some other force was behind the attack. Another soldier approached him, one of the lighter armed variety. His dark hair and beard were nearly as dark as his eyes.

"My lord, there are no tracks leading away from the battle. If anyone else had escaped we'd know about it." the soldier explained. Brom stared about at the corpses, quickly catching on to his compatriot's meaning.

"So then where are the women..." Brom began when he heard a noise to his right; a small cough. He made his way towards a side alley to see a figure slumped up against the wall, a young man of around sixteen years. He was covered in both mud and blood, having it caked in his hair and across his body, and though they concealed his golden blonde hair they did nothing to hide the brilliance of his blue eyes.

"Sir Brom." the adolescent whispered hoarsely, and Brom recognised him instantly.

"My Prince!" he shouted, quickly closing the distance between them and falling to his knees beside the young monarch. Brom saw the pool of blood around the prince's midsection that had stained his tunic, the indication of a terrible wound. Another gash was rent into his forehead, rivulets of blood framing his slender face.

"I have failed them..." the prince began, before coughing up a glob of blood.

"Be still." Brom soothed, placing a hand on the youth's shoulder to calm him, but Rusl firmly gripped the knight's forearm and met his eyes with an intense stare.

"They came from the shadows, as if from no where." Prince Rusl stammered, his voice barely audible.

"Who did, my lord?" Brom asked, his own voice lowering. Others had begun to crowd nearby, listening to every word of the exchange.

"Men and women, Gerudos and others, yet they fought alongside each other. Fiends with skin of pale green and fangs sharp as daggers. Even _the dead_ walked again..." Rusl said, coughing and gripping his midsection.

"My lord, you need healing." Brom went to soothe him again but Rusl mustered his failing strength and locked gazes with the knight again.

"Then they came, warriors of black magic. They were too powerful for my masters, they were skilled like them, cunning like them. They even moved like them. One had a device of terrible power, a thing of evil magic." the Prince's eyes went wide with fear. "An Mask of Fused Shadow."

Once again Rusl doubled over in agony, and his breathing became more laboured. A lump formed in Brom's throat seeing the boy in such pain. He went to move but Rusl's iron grip kept him in place, and he leant forward to hear his Prince's words.

"They let me live so that I may deliver this message." he gasped "_All who oppose us shall meet the same fate. For we shall gain the power of the goddesses, take control of the sacred realm... and then all realms_."

And then a strange calm entered Rusl's eyes, and Brom knew that he could see the goddesses; his time was drawing to an end.

"They call for me." Rusl whispered. His head slumped forward, his grip loosened and his hand fell. Brom let out a long mournful sigh. The Prince was dead. Brom rose to his feet, taking deep steady breaths while he paced back and forth. Then, in a sudden outburst of pain he let out a terrible roar and punched the wall of the alley, venting his anger. For a second he continued to breathe heavily before meeting the gaze of his companions.

"Get a wagon, we're not leaving him here." Brom said, regaining some of his composure. He watched as the soldiers lifted the Prince's body onto their shields and began to carry him towards a nearby wagon, some of their number hitching one of the horses to it. Brom watched on, his heart heavy with sorrow.

"My lord?" he heard a soldier ask a few buildings away.

"What is it?" Brom replied, not taking his eyes off the Rusl's body.

"It's the women and children." the soldier replied, the hint of dread in his voice giving Brom a distinct sense of foreboding, a sense only deepened when the soldier continued. "I've found them..."

Not wanting to see what the soldier had found, but knowing that he had to, Brom made his way toward the end of the town. The path cut through the village and then up towards the end of the valley, rising up a gentle slope towards a shrine at the top of the hill. A small grave yard was situated a small distance up the hill, yet that was not what drew the knight's attention.

Brom's expression turned as hard as stone when he finally stood beside the soldier that had called for him and met the sight before his eyes. Row upon row of them, beaten and bloodied, crucified upside down. Their wrists and ankles had been impaled with iron spikes.. Their eyes stared blankly at them, the ghosts of frightening screams looming over their faces. The sight of them conveyed the malice of their foe better than Rusl's words ever could. The soldiers began to gather before the grizzly sight; while many kept their resolve the fear in their eyes was plain to see.

"Ancestors preserve us." one of the soldiers said "What man could commit such atrocities against the innocent?"

Brom turned back to face the soldiers, a grimness in his eyes.

"Get them down from there." he growled, marching back down the hill. He passed by a young sergeant. "Send word for more men, and to Impa. They were Sheikah, they deserve a proper burial."

"And what of the Rusl?" the sergeant asked. Brom shook his head. "I'll deliver that news personally."

* * *

"How could this happen?" the Sheikah man demanded angrily.

"My men are investigating every possibility, but in the end Rusl's dying words are our best evidence. He saw what happened." Brom replied. They had been going back and forth in similar fashion for hours. Brom had gathered in the command tent with all of the high ranking officers of the Hylian army, discussing the recent events and the implications they posed. Everyone was on edge.

"But what you are implying is near treason! The Sheikah have..." the man began.

"Rusl said that the attackers moved like his defenders. He was being trained in your ways and would have recognised their fighting style. That leaves only one conclusion." Brom interrupted. He turned then to another Sheikah, a woman. "Surely you have to see it."

"We do not train outsiders aside from the royal family in our craft. The attack was orchestrated and committed by our own." the woman replied grimly. Impa was a tall woman with an athletic build, the muscles hidden beneath her tanned skin suggesting both strength and flexibility. Her hair was white as an elderly woman's yet her face showed signs of youth, while her eyes conveyed the wisdom and sense of a woman of many summers. When combined it gave her an ageless appearance. She had looked like this for as long as Brom could remember her. Her light plate cuirass was moulded to her torso, while a shortened katana was sheathed at her back.

"It's all linked." Brom continued "The creatures Rusl described are the same ones that defeated our army at Lake Hylia. And every day we receive reports of similar forces attacking other settlements, not just ours but Gorons and Zoras as well, even Gerudos. Whatever power they have unleashed is strong, and while we do not know how they came to find it their intent is clear; they mean to take the Sacred Realm as their own."

The tent was quiet for a few moments, but then the angry Sheikah man spoke again. "This is nothing but speculation! What evidence do we have to go on? A dying man's words and isolated reports and rumours are not..."

And then a figure stirred, and the whole room went silent. The tall man was enthroned on a large wooden seat of office, raised on a wooden platform. His beard was neatly combed along with his medium length hair, both of which were dark brown. Bright blue eyes scanned the room under a strong brow. His broad build hinted of years of combat while his regal composure spoke of great authority. King Magnus rose from his seat.

"So these summoners and assassins believe that they can scare us into submission. They are wrong, the power of the Sacred Realm is mine by right, by divine right." he said sternly "I will not tolerate any challengers to my claim. Taking my son's life was their first mistake, and now we shall make them regret the day they dared challenge us."

"What would you have us do, sire?" Brom asked.

"Prepare the army to march. Let us find these barbarians and quash them before they can claim what is rightfully ours!" the king stated.

"For the Hylians!" the room cried in reply. Brom however, remained wary.


End file.
